


With You In My Bed (Can't Have You Living In my Head)

by ReapersAngel



Series: How Many Stars Are In The Sky [2]
Category: NCIS
Genre: "We need to talk", (it's cute), Basically, Cuddling, Disclaimer: Credits to NCIS, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Getting Together, Gibbs LIVES off of takeout, Gibbs gets possessive, Gibbs prepares like it's Doomsday, Gibbs the Coffee Addict, Gibbs' Fridge, Have you seen his soup, Literal Sleeping Together, M/M, Mutual Pining, No More Pining!, Pancakes, Pining, Sleeping Together, So get your heads out of the gutter, They stay over at each other's houses/homes a lot, They talk, Unspecified Gibbs' Team, Who eats ketchup for breakfast, honestly, they kiss, tony cooks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-05
Updated: 2020-08-05
Packaged: 2021-03-05 21:42:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,565
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25732309
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ReapersAngel/pseuds/ReapersAngel
Summary: What happened after "Someday We'll Fall In Love (Someday Today)". Tony wakes up, makes breakfast, Gibbs wakes up, they eat, they talk. Oh, and coffee. They're scarily domestic.The sequel to "Someday We'll Fall In Love (Someday Today)".
Relationships: Anthony DiNozzo/Jethro Gibbs
Series: How Many Stars Are In The Sky [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1855498
Comments: 8
Kudos: 129





	With You In My Bed (Can't Have You Living In my Head)

**Author's Note:**

> I actually had this written out and finished July 27, but couldn't find a title. Of course, I went with my apparent quote-unquote 'theme' of titling these with titles inspired by Radio Company's songs. This one was inspired by "Off My Mind", which is honestly my favourite.

Tony woke up with the scent of sawdust and coffee in his nose and pressed up against something warm. There was a hand in his hair, and when he cracked open an eye, he had the very spectacular view of someone’s collarbone and throat.

Last night, he remembered, they’d wrapped up the last in a set of back-to-back cases. He barely remembered thinking he was going to sleep at his desk. Apparently, someone had the good sense to drag him into bed, but not the sense to undress him into something remotely comfortable. He internally groaned thinking about the wrinkles that he knew were in his suit.

Then the scent in his nose registered in his brain. He was at Gibbs’, because Gibbs always smelled like sawdust since he’d begun building those damn boats and coffee because he was on the same level of coffee-addiction as Abby was in her Caf-Pow! addiction. 

Which meant he was sleeping with Gibbs, his brain helpfully supplied. He scowled at it.

Carefully he slipped out from around Gibbs and out of bed, grabbing one of Gibbs’ pairs of sweatpants - what? It wasn’t like they hadn’t worn each other’s clothes before - and going into the adjourning bathroom. He changed into the sweatpants but left his undershirt on and washed up. He found a toothbrush still in the plastic packaging and used that to brush his teeth.

He was walking out to the kitchen but paused in the bedroom, his eyes drawn to Gibbs. He was still asleep, half on his side with his hair fanned out and his cheek pressed against the pillow where Tony’s head had been. If he got closer to look, he’d be able to see whether or not Gibbs’ lashes were silver like his hair.

He didn’t though, and set out for the kitchen to make coffee. Gibbs was even more of a bastard before his first cup of coffee, and on top of that, he had  _ absolutely no filter _ .

He left the coffee maker humming quietly with the occasional drip-drop sounds and scowled at Gibbs’ nearly empty fridge. The man could not survive on Chinese takeout for every meal. They literally weren’t open in the morning.

He scrounged around Gibbs’ cabinets and sighed in relief at seeing - at  _ least _ , come  _ on _ Gibbs - the dry ingredients for a simple pancake recipe. He dragged them out to the table, and found a few glass jars of fruit preserves that looked homemade behind fifty-something cans of soup. Seriously, Gibbs skipped out on the basics of food but prepared like Doomsday was coming.

Thank god he at least had milk, eggs, and butter in his fridge. The only other things he had in there was a questionably expired-or-not bottle of half-used ketchup, a cup of yogurt, and a whole lot of refrigerated air.

He set to making pancakes, glad that, if nothing, Gibbs had bowls, spoons, and a working stovetop. He was beginning to think he never ate anything other than takeout.

After figuring out how to flip pancakes with two forks instead of a spatula - because of course Gibbs didn’t have that - he poured two mugs of coffee, doctoring his with sugar and milk in place of creamer. He sipped his, eyeing the still-running coffee pot.

After the flipping of the fourth pancake, he heard footsteps coming down the stairs. Despite every time Gibbs could sneak up on him at work, even secret Marine-ninja techniques didn't work in a creaky house.

He turned and saw Gibbs lock onto the other mug of coffee and make a beeline for it. There was a look of bliss on his face as he practically inhaled it. Tony hid his smile behind his own mug.

Gibbs lowered his mug and turned towards him. There was a flash of something in his eyes before it disappeared. "You making me breakfast now?"

Tony scoffed. "You can't have ketchup for breakfast."

Gibbs scowled but didn't say anything. Tony finished the last pancake and slid it onto a plate, handing it to Gibbs. "Here, eat it with the preserves."

Gibbs took the plate without complaints but stopped before he reached the table. He half-turned and raised an eyebrow at Tony. "Can't eat at the table, DiNozzo."

Tony got his own plate and came to join him, confused. "Why- oh." He looked sheepishly at Gibbs, then at the table housing the bags of flour and sugar, the milk jug, the egg carton, and everything else. "Couch?"

Gibbs grumbled something about how there better not be any crumbs on his couch as they headed over. Tony left his plate with him and glared at Gibbs, making sure he got the message not to touch his pancakes as he went back for the preserves, spoons, forks, and knives.

When he came back he found Gibbs docilely making nudging motions with his knee at Tony’s plate. Tony scowled at him and opened the preserves. The handwritten labels read  _ Strawberry _ ,  _ Raspberry _ , and  _ Honey & Peach _ , respectively. “Where'd you get these?” He asked.

Gibbs already had a mouthful of plain pancake in as he spooned raspberry preserves onto his plate. “Farmers’ market,” He mumbled.

“You go to the farmers’ market but not the grocery store,” Tony said sarcastically, using a different spoon to get the honey and peach preserves from jar to plate. “Wow, Gibbs, wow.”

“Shut up,” Gibbs said, bumping his shoulder against Tony’s. Tony leaned into the touch for a moment, then belatedly drew away.

“And how many cans of soup do you have?” He probed.

“Sixty-seven,” Gibbs admitted. Tony’s jaw dropped.

“Sixty-seven?!” He exclaimed, “The Apocalypse isn’t happening any time soon, right?!”

“Haha, Tony,” Gibbs said dryly. His face turned serious, if a bit gentle. “Off the topic of my food choices, we need to talk.”

* * *

Gibbs watched Tony pale at the words ‘we need to talk’. They were never anyone’s favourite words. “No, not bad talk,” He reassured.

“Okay,” Tony said suspiciously. He relaxed a tiny bit, and took a sip of coffee. “Shoot.”

“About late night-” Tony shot ramrod-straight at those three words. Gibbs had the urge to headslap him, and he would have if he wouldn’t have dropped his pancakes if he did. “No, DiNozzo, calm down,” He said exasperatedly, “I was just going to say that it was different.”

“Different,” Tony said cautiously. “How? We’ve shared a bed before, Gibbs.”

“We did not  _ cuddle _ before,” Gibbs said dryly. Tony’s cheeks turned red. A wave of affection rushed through him.

“S-so what?” Tony said, stumbling over the ‘so’ but pushing on. “We didn’t, we do. Makes no difference to me.”

He looked away from Gibbs when he said ‘makes no difference’ and crossed his arms. Gibbs could always tell when Tony was lying, and now wasn’t any different.

“Cuddling might make no difference, Tony,” Gibbs said softly, the use of Tony’s first name making him look back at him again, “Even if you did start it.” He grinned wickedly as Tony turned even redder. His voice turned soft again. “But before that. You were half-asleep in my bed, and I liked seeing you there. I couldn’t help myself.”

Somehow his plate found its way to his coffee table and he leaned up and forward on his knees. Just like last night, he brushed Tony’s hair away from his forehead and placed a soft kiss there. He let his lips linger, and felt Tony still.

“Tony?” He asked softly. He’d never seen Tony blush so furiously, or look so shy and bashful. Usually  _ Tony _ was the one who flirted and made people blush and look all shy. It felt good to be the one to see him like this, even if there was a ball of knots of uncertainty in his gut.

“I-if I said I wanted you to do it again,” Tony said, looking up at him from under his lashes and sounding just as unsure and hopeful as Gibbs felt, “Would you?”

Gibbs leaned forward, and Tony met him halfway. Their kiss was soft, chaste, unsure - the simple press of his lips to Tony’s. His heart felt like a butterfly in his chest. He hadn’t felt this way since Kelly came into the world, and before that, since the first time he met Shannon. His girls, he thought, who would approve of Tony.

They parted, and Gibbs hadn’t realized he had closed his eyes until he opened them. Tony was looking at him, awed. “Been wanting to do that since I saw you in my clothes,” He mumbled, “Got possessive.”

Tony laughed. “You got possessive,” He said. It was then that Gibbs finally noticed that all their food was on his coffee table. “I like it,” He said confidently.

“Glad you do,” Gibbs said, feeling a smile form on his face. “Fell for you in Baltimore,” He added.

Tony turned shy again. “Me too,” He said, touching Gibbs’ nose with his. Gibbs felt another wave of affection - no, it was love this time - rush through him at the gesture.

“Well, now that that’s cleared up,” he said, feeling sheepish and knowing Tony saw it, “How long do those frozen dishes of yours last unrefrigerated?”

Tony looked startled, then threw back his head and laughed. “Knew you didn’t each takeout for every meal,” He said fondly.

Gibbs felt warmth well up in him at seeing Tony look at him like that, and couldn’t help leaning in again.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments and kudos appreciated!
> 
> (For those of you who asked about a sequel, I hope you enjoyed!)


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